


Transference

by Anonymous



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Blow Jobs, M/M, PWP, Poor Life Choices
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-05
Updated: 2016-02-05
Packaged: 2018-05-14 14:07:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5747296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Barry could always tell the difference. The problem was he didn't want to.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Transference

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文 available: [Transference 移情](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8710996) by [jls20011425](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jls20011425/pseuds/jls20011425)



Barry didn't want to admit it to anyone but he found it... not exactly easy, but definitely simple to tell the difference between Earth Two's Doctor Wells and their own. As much as he'd like to believe that what he'd told Joe was the truth, the Doctor Wells of Earth Two _didn't_ sound the same, he didn't move the same, not even counting the issue with the wheelchair, and he didn't... He didn't _look_ at Barry the same.

Dr. Wells – Thawne – he had looked at Barry like –

Barry sank his teeth into his lower lip and kept his gaze determinedly fixed on Dr. Wells' face, at the intensity there that he couldn't admit to missing because somehow he'd never even noticed it properly before.

“Stop shaking,” Wells said impatiently, then sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, hissing some invective under his breath. “I'm sorry,” he corrected, gentling his voice slightly, the tone smoothing out into something more familiar.

Barry wanted to hate himself for the way he relaxed, he really did.

“Barry,” Wells said, and it was almost exactly right.

“Dr. Wells,” Barry said in return, almost missed the tiny wince, the momentary tightening of his features. “I – I...”

“Shh,” Wells said. His lips curved up slightly in a small amused grin even as his eyes kept boring into Barry's, staring as if to reach the mind behind them and peel it apart. “It's fine. I know what you need,” he said.

Barry bowed his head and breathed out, a noisy exhale of relief – Dr. Wells had this, had him, it was going to be okay because he said so, because he knew what Barry needed to do, needed to hear, he always knew what Barry needed –

“Okay,” he said instantly and watched Wells' eyes widen a little, somehow still surprised at what Barry was willing to do for him.

(Like snatching bullets out of the air, like _I've always wanted to meet you_ and _I won't let them hurt you_ and _I look at him now and I **know** that he killed my mom and he sent my dad to jail but sometimes he's just so kind –_ )

He slid to his knees in front of the wheelchair at the slightest tug of Wells' hands, pressing his face into the warmth of his thigh as fingers slid through his hair, cupped the back of his neck reassuringly.

"You can say no," Dr. Wells murmured. "We can stop this little experiment right here –"

Barry looked up, horrified. "No! No – I – please, Dr. Wells – just let me –"

Wells shook his head and sighed as Barry fumbled at his zipper, hands shaking so badly he laughed self-consciously and blurted an apology to the man's cock, not daring to look up and see the expression on his face. “Barry Allen,” he said, and the depth of familiarity left Barry breathless, light-headed with some sick kind of relief.

“Yeah,” he croaked, closed his eyes as Wells' free hand took hold of his chin, thumb stroking pointedly over his lips, encouraging them to part. “That's... that's right.”

“I would certainly hope so,” Wells said dryly and Barry gave a weak little shudder of a laugh and spread his fingers out against the man's thighs to steady himself.

“Sorry,” he said and Wells shook his head and smiled and it was

_Partners?_

_Friends._

exactly the sort of encouragement Barry needed to lean forward and take his cock into his mouth with more confidence than he felt, savoring the surprised grunt that escaped a man who probably planned every potential conversation in his head long before he had them, working the best way to lie with the truth.

Wells breathed out, a long, slow hiss of pleasure, and the hand on the back of Barry's neck flexed convulsively, nails catching skin.

“Watch your teeth,” he said, almost the sort of jesting lecture Barry could imagine Thawne-as-Wells making, but the tone of irritability was wrong, the right degree of fondness that would conceal the reassertion of control as a joke wasn't there.

Barry pulled back deliberately slowly, concentrating intensely on the drag of his lips over wet skin to keep track of time and his place in it.

“Are you gonna lecture me all through this?”

“I thought that was what you wanted?” Wells said, making an irritated attempt to push his head back down that he could easily resist if he wanted to. Barry went with the movement instead, mouthed his way down his cock and then pulled back again, smiling as if his heart wasn't humming in his chest with nerves.

(He'll see, he'll know, he'll realize there was nothing like this to get over.)

“Not really,” he said and watched Wells shudder at the brush of his lips against him.

“Ah,” Wells said with an air of revelation, gentling his grip. Barry wasn't sure what he'd taken from that, what Barry had apparently said without realizing, but he supposed he should have expected that even a Dr. Wells from another universe would know how to read him better than he knew himself. “Forgive me, then.”

He started stroking Barry's face absently as he looked him, contemplating, clearly reassessing his plans and options. Barry tried to stay as perfectly still as he could manage, only realized his minute shifts to diffuse the tension he was feeling translated into vibrating when Dr. Wells' fingers tightened in his hair again, the hand cupping his face palming flat against his cheek – stop, still, _see the difference? This is the control you should have._

“Let's try again,” Dr. Wells said gently and Barry's sigh of relief made him grin. “Now, Barry – how much can you take?”

“Everything,” Barry breathed, clawing for confidence. He tried to pretend there was only one meaning behind his words. “Anything. Everything you give me, everything you've got, I can take it all.”

“Can you?” Dr. Wells murmured doubtfully. Barry didn't wince. He didn't. “We'll see.”

Barry took a quick breath as he was pushed back down again with a lighter and paradoxically much more inescapable hand. He closed his eyes as Harrison's cock slid past his lips, over his tongue and inexorably deeper, to the back of his throat until he couldn't help gagging and trying to pull back. Dr. Wells didn't let him, held him in place as his throat spasmed and his head started spinning, panic clawing its way through him because he couldn't _breathe_.

“You can do this,” Dr. Wells reminded him and Barry's mind automatically added _I believe in you_ as he started to struggle, a muffled panicked whine escaping him. Dr. Wells let go and Barry pulled away instantly, gasping at the wet slide of his cock drawing out of his throat.

He swiped at the spit drooling down his chin to try and conceal a desperate brush at the corner of his eyes, panting noisily for air and cursing himself for being so ridiculous because he just knew that if he looked up Dr. Wells would be wearing that look of mild disappointment, the one that always cut him to the quick, told him _you are not being everything I know you to be_. 

“I thought you could take everything and anything I did to you?” Wells asked and Barry had been right – he _was_ disappointed, and it hurt more than the faint mockery he thought he could also hear.

“I can,” Barry croaked. “I just – I just need –”

“You can do this,” Dr. Wells repeated with all of Eobard Thawne's certainty and Barry nodded because that was exactly it. Anything Dr. Wells asked of him he could do because there was always such confidence that Barry might not be living up to the promise he saw in him just then but he was capable of anything if he put his mind to it.

_The only thing standing in the way of you achieving every goal that you set for yourself is you. There is no limit to how strong you will get or how fast you will go. Everything that you need, you already have._

It was the one thing Thawne – Eobard, because he couldn't, wouldn't think of Eddie – had told him about his abilities that he knew was wrong, because he needed Eobard – the man had made sure of that – and he no longer had him.

“Again,” Thawne said, stroking the back of his neck. “I know you can do it.” He didn't push Barry down again but he didn't have to – Barry opened his mouth obediently and took him in, breathing slowly through his nose and trying to ignore the frantic hum of his heart.

He counted seconds – it felt like a minute between each one – swallowing around the heavy weight in his mouth, waiting for his heart to slow, for the budding panic to fade back into calm.

“Very good, Mr. Allen,” Eobard crooned, and Barry… Barry moaned and pushed forward just that little bit more before drawing back, becoming more confident with every attempt, every inch more he could take, every sigh each lick and swallow won him.

It still wasn't as easy as he thought it should be, he still gagged and gasped when he tried to move too deep too fast, but it didn't matter because Dr. Wells was stroking his hair, telling him – telling him –

He'd missed it so badly, the way Eobard Thawne praised him, the way he said his name, the utter certainty he had that no matter what Barry did he was still exactly what Thawne wanted. He was _Barry Allen_ so he was perfect.

It wasn't the same, other people's belief, their faith – he never quite believed it, not like he did when it came from Harrison Wells, a man he'd… he'd admired and respected and trusted so deeply that he could tell him to do anything, anything at all and Barry _would_. Run on water, through a wall, faster than sound, faster than light, Barry could do anything if Dr. Wells just assured him he could.

Eobard Thawne knew Barry's future, was Barry's future – everything one of them was capable of so was the other and that knowledge bled into Dr. Wells' voice even when he phrased his orders as suggestions, as theoretical possibilities.

_feel the ground, your feet lifting you up, pushing you forward –_

He would do anything for that voice.

“Barry,” Wells hissed, and Barry tilted his head as best as he could with him still wedged in his throat and looked up. His eyes were dark, his mouth folded into a thin line, and he stared at Barry as if it was the most wonderful and horrible thing he'd ever seen, his cock sliding in and out of his mouth.

Barry clenched his eyes tightly shut, determined not to think of the way they itched and burned. He felt ill suddenly, the comfort he'd managed to find in the familiarity of trying to please Dr. Wells turning sour. He moved faster, vibrated, licked and sucked and stroked with a single minded determination not to _think_ and Dr. Wells cursed, grabbing at Barry's head and curling his fingers viciously into his hair as he came, a bitter flood in Barry's mouth.

Barry swallowed, choked, and spluttered helplessly, feeling his skin flush hot and then go cold at the feeling of come escaping the corners of his mouth, dripping down his chin. He didn't feel triumphant or satisfied or anything like he'd thought he might feel to know he could have some kind of power over the man of his nightmares and memories. He felt pathetic and small and like he'd taken just one more path Eobard had always had planned out for him.

“You'll never be over this,” Dr. Wells murmured. “Over me."

Barry wasn't sure he really expected or needed a response from him, not when the answer was so obvious. He turned his head away and pressed his face into Wells' thigh instead, feeling briefly, pettily satisfied at the thought of the mess because god only knew he'd never be able to mess the man up emotionally the way he did Barry.

He was a terrible person, probably. It would explain a lot. He took long shuddering breaths and tried to focus on nothing.

After a long moment he felt Dr. Wells' hand come down to rest tentatively on his head, fingers slipping through his hair. Barry couldn't tell which one of them was shaking.

“I'm sorry,” Dr. Wells said, but it wasn't the right one.


End file.
